MISSOURI WATCH: MISSOURI'S BILLION-DOLLAR GAMBLING BUBBLE

Most people have either watched or participated in the old carnival shell games, which still pitch their tents at county fairs and other celebrations when the local sheriff isn't too alert. Rubes of all ages are attracted by the carney's spiel, which is a delight to hear, and his deft movement of cheap, plastic shells that promise so much and never, ever deliver. As a kid, and even several years beyond the juvenile age, I once dropped my share of hard-earned cash at sleazy tents pitched in small-town squares, the last fling occurring just after I had been discharged from the service in World War II.

I remember promising myself that it would be the last venture into easy cash, that I was much too old and presumably wiser, to be contributing to the welfare of a bum who earned his living by cheating others, even if they were stupid. The promise has been kept ever since.

The tents are mostly gone these days, as the local citizenry finally concluded that the sucker didn't have a chance of surviving the games of fast-talking carneys. Besides, not only were the odds so incredibly bad, the pitchmen often had a way of ingratiating themselves with the local police, which afforded them protection from anyone who might conclude the games were fixed. The carneys always moved on, to greener pastures, before any retribution could be exacted.

Missouri presently has seven superb gambling "tents" strategically placed around the state to attract the largest number of players possible. Instead of canvas, these facilities are in the shape of riverboats, and they glitter and shine and give off an air of excitement that beats county fairs coming and going. These "tents" offer just about the same odds as the shell-game booths next to the ferris wheel and merry-go- round, and the only thing that hasn't changed has been the ready supply of rubes who actually believe they can beat house odds.

The truth is, they can't, and never will.

What's disturbing about these modern-day shell games is that they have adopted modern-day marketing techniques to attract customers. The neon is garish, the food is inexpensive, the liquor is often free, and the environment is a lot more exciting than being home watching television or reading the local newspaper. The "tents" are where the action is, and everybody wants to be a part of the action. Forget the cost. A $500 hit on the family budget can be made up, reasoning goes, and besides, this is a fun place. They even have live music.

The revenue reports are at last rolling in, and anyone who has taken a look at them should be worried. The seven casinos in this state, operating at eight locations, have quickly become an enterprise with adjusted gross profits of more than a half-billion dollars a year. A couple more casinos and the profits will quickly reach a full billion dollars. How many businesses do you know that began turning in half-billion-dollar profits in less than a year's operation? Not even Wal-Mart, the most successful marketing company in the world, does that. Nobody else did either until the casinos came to our towns.

The rubes are so excited at the prospect of leaving their money with corporations from Las Vegas, California and New York that they are not only crowding the casinos to near capacities, they are waiting in line the next morning when the shell games open at 8 and 9 o'clock. In the month of August, 1.7 million admissions were recorded for six casinos, and projected over a 12-month period, this means that admissions will be four times the total population of the entire state of Missouri.

Don't these figures give anyone cause for concern? Probably only the old fogies who opposed the casinos when they first stuck their noses under the tent. The rest of the state appears to be enthralled with the inexpensive food, the cheap liquor, the free music and the right to dump $500 a day into the laps of so-called entrepreneurs. Make that shell-game operators.

The "good deeds" offered communities by gaming companies have sucked more than a few rubes into the tent. The civic improvements, the sponsorship of philanthropic events, the free rides to the gaming tables are only a part of the mix of becoming an accepted member of the community. The only thing the casinos ask in return is the right to offer three shells to anyone old enough to put their cash on the table. If you're going to take the sucker's money, it's smart business to offer something in return, particularly when you know how much of the sucker's money you're going to keep when he puts down his dollars.

Missouri is fast becoming another Mississippi where casino gambling has run amuck, with competition so keen that gamblers there are now earning more money than the rest of the state spends in all other commercial enterprises. That's right. In Mississippi, the money spent on gambling last year exceeded all the taxable retail sales in the state.

Think of it, because it won't be long until the same thing can be said in Missouri. The figures are already startling. Gambling now generates more cash in our state than six of the nine tax categories collected by the Department of Revenue. The projected gross revenue of only seven casinos exceeds the state's appropriations to 12 of Missouri's 16 state agencies, or to put it another way, the annual profits of just seven casinos will exceed the total amount of state taxes required to fund desegregation programs in the Kansas City School District for three years -- with current expenditures for deseg in the St. Louis District thrown in for good measure.

In addition to ruined lives, the second tragic consequence is ruined- businesses, with lapsed payrolls and disappearing profits. Money spent at casinos won't be spent at nearby supermarkets, clothing stores, car agencies, furniture outlets, discount stores and savings institutions. The loss of these stores is but one reflection of the neon and glitter of Missouri's flourishing gambling operations.

Step right up, Missourians, and make sure you bring plenty of your hard-earned money.

Organized gambling is making Missourians an offer they should be wise enough to refuse.

Jack Stapleton of Kennett if the editor of the Missouri News and Editorial Service.